be permitted to preach it. I would not in any respect retrench the morality of Julia, but I could wish her to address it to herself. I cannot bear the love of superiority she preserves with Saint Preux. A woman is beneath her lover when once he has rendered her culpable; the charms of her sex remain to her, but her rights are lost; shesion whenever the object made no opposition. may lead the heart, but she ought no longer to command.

"Rousseau avoided what we call society, but he loved the peasants; and the motion which the appearance of men causes in the country was agreeable to him. He shewed an extreme fondness for children: it was so necessary for him to love, that his heart abandoned itself to that pas

"There is one letter less noticed than the others, but which I have not been able to read without being inexpressibly affected; I mean the letter Julia writes to St. Preux when she is dying. Julia, whom I had believed cured, discovering to me an heart more deeply wounded than ever. The sad and melancholy words, "Adieu! for ever adieu!" mingling with the expressions of a sentiment created for the happiness of life; the certainty of dying, which gives to all her words

so solemn and true a character. With what regret we come to the end of this novel, which has interested us in the same manner as if it had related an event of our own lives, and without afflicting our hearts has given a lively impulse to our reflections and our feelings."

ON THE CHARACTER OF ROUSSEAU.

"I did not begin by describing the character of Rousseau. He himself wrote not his Confessions until he had finished his other works; he did not solicit the attention of men for himself, until he had merited their gratitude by consecrating to their service his genius for twenty years. I have followed the track he has marked out, and by the admiration which his writings must inspire, have prepared myself to judge his character, often calumniated, and perhaps not unfrequently too justly blamed.

"Rousseau must have had a figure not remarkable on a transient view, but which could never be forgotten when once he had been observed speaking. He had little eyes, which had no expression in themselves, but successively received that of the different impulsions of the mind. His eyebrows were very prominent, and seemed proper to serve his moroseness, and hide him from the sight of men. His head was for the most part hung down; but it was neither flattery nor fear that had lowered it: meditation and melancholy had weighed it down like a flower bent by the storm or its own weight. When he was silent his physiognomy had no expression; neither his thoughts nor affections were apparent in his visage, except when he took part in conversation. He resembled the gods which Ovid describes to us, sometimes quitting by degrees their terrestrial disguise, and at length discovering themselves by the brilliant rays emanating from their countenance,

"Rousseau reinforced by reflection all the ideas which afflicted him; and the look or gesture of a man he met, or a child who withdrew from him, became, in his imagination, new proofs of the universal hatred of which he believed himself

to be the object; but, notwithstanding this cruel distrust, he remained until his death the best of

men.

"Ah! Rousseau, how pleasing an effort would it have been to have inspired thee with a new attachment to life, to have accompanied thy steps in thy solitary walks, to have followed thy thoughts, and by degrees to have directed them to more cheering hopes! How seldom do we know how to console the unhappy, and how rarely it happens that we consider the state of their minds and act accordingly! We oppose reason to their disordered faculties, and our calmness to their agitation; their confidence stops short, and the grief they feel sinks still deeper into their hearts."

The Rev. F. A. Cox, of Hackney, is preparing for the press, a Life of Philip Melancthon, the intimate friend and distinguished coadjutor of Martin Luther.

Mr. J. D. Patison is preparing to publish, Illustrations of London, in three octavo volumes, with numerous engravings.

Lucien Bonaparte's poem of Charlemagne, both in French and in English, will soon appear, each in a quarto volume; the translation into English rhyme by the Rev. Dr. S. Butler and the Rev. F. Hodgson.

W. Blair, Esq. is preparing for the press, an enlarged Correspondence between Protestants and Roman Catholics, on the translation, dispersion, and free use of the Scriptures; with select notes from the Rheims Testament and Douay Bible.

Lieut. W. E. Parry, R. N. speedily will pub lish, Nautical Astronomy by Night, illustrated by engravings; intended chiefly for the use of the navy, and calculated to render more familiar the knowledge of the stars.

Captain Tuckey, R. N. has in great forward. ness, a work on Maritime Geography, in four octavo volumes.

A gentleman well known in the literary world has in considerable forwardness for the press, a complete Version of the Sonnets, Odes, and Pageants of Petrarcb, with a copious commentary. He published a specimen in an octavo volume in

"His mind was slow, but his soul was ardent,|| 1808. and by thinking he became impassioned. I am

'The Rev. J. Nightingale is preparing for puh.

of opinion that imagination was his greatest fa-lication, Theomania, or Historical Anecdotes of faculty, and absorbed all the rest.

Religious Insanity and Delusion, from the earli

est time of Christianity to the recent imposture | Thus it is that several of those fragments which of Joanna Southcott.

Mr. Rich. Woodhouse has an English, French, Italian, and Portuguese Vocabulary nearly ready for publication.

Dr. Montucci is now proceeding with alacrity toward the completion of his Chinese Dictionary; at the beginning of last month he had reached the syllable Leu, and the characters engraven were 14,900; and by the latter end of next year he hopes to see the engravings finished, when the|| number of characters will exceed 24,000.

MANNERS OF THE FRENCH.

(Continued from our last.)

THE MEMORANDUM BOOK OF A MAN OF

FASHION.

STERNE'S Sentimental Journey resembles, in some degree, those notes, without connection or conclusion, which we read in memorandum books; wherein there reigns an incoherency of ideas, of sentiments, and of observations, which in part made the fortune of the author. I think I should be very apt, with some restrictions, to write travels after this manner: it seems, as one may say, in the unshackled manner in which it is written, to describe every thing the same as if it was really passing before one's eyes. I recollect having been much interested in perusing a voyage to Prussia, by M. de Guibert, composed only of simple memorandums, thrown together without form, but which, nevertheless, proved the writer a man of profound thinking and observation.

have been very improperly published, under the title of Thoughts of Pascal (and which, in effect, are only extracts from his memorandums), often fatigue the penetration of the reader, and might even puzzle the author himself to explain.

These reflections presented themselves to my mind after having skimmed over the recollections of my friend M. Clenord, who shewed it to me as a model of ambiguity, which he defied me to make out. I tried to do so; as I looked on it as so many bouts rimes which 1 had to fill up, or like the romance of Acajou, that Duclos composed on the drawings of Boncher. The follow. ing is my commentary, I put the text in italics :— Since the last four months, pamphlets 1473-6.

Amidst the number of pamphlets with which we have been overwhelmed for four months past, there are about six which are fit to read, and which prove that folly, brutality, and meanness, are not such a general disorder, but that a few good constitutions have been able to escape the infection: the six pamphlets are" The Allies and the Bourbons ;"-"Account of Moreau ;”— "On the Liberty of Pamphlets and Journals ;" "Letters on the Liberty of the Press ;"-" Remonstrances from the Pit;"-" Reflections of a Royalist;"

English,-outrageous talk without reason,-con duct of the French in opposition,-easy vengeance,-Royal Family of England,-Lord Cochrane, reception of the Northern Potentates, &c.

Peace is made; the English who have obtained every advantage, have given us the most valuable security. The best understanding ought to reign between the two nations; whence then that species of warfare, by which the English journalists take care to maintain their opinions? Why those daily attacks of the Courier?-those perfidious insinuations of M.Cobbet? Our neighbours across the water evince too proud a triumph at the silly and interested admiration of their partisans, and at the silence that sentiment and convenience impose on the rest of the nation. If we do not answer these provocations,-if our journalists in their turn do not make themselves merry at their expence, it is not because subjects fail us; we may defy the most bitter in scandalous invective, the most fertile in ridicule, to

create more finished models than those which present themselves in England, from the throne to the footstool. With a tolerable dose of huI have always thought that the memorandums mour, might not some good jest be made on one of a man of genius, must be the most valuable of of the first constituted corps of a state, which all his works. A few words traced by a pencil, claims, with so much earnestness, the honour of from the recollections of a Newton, or a Montes-giving a seat again to an honourable member just quieu, might contain the first ideas of the most escaped the pillory? sublime conceptions. Unhappily these are a species of hieroglyphics, which are generally unintelligible to those into whose hands they may chance to fall, and even may sometimes be no longer understood by those who traced them,

The reception given to some foreign Generals, in presence of those monarchs who were then in England, was it not of a nature to give birth to more than one saucy reflection on the politeness and good policy of the ancient Britons?

houses, or for less than six francs in the other; we must confess that that is a great disproportion, and also that there are four livres and ten sous difference, in the respect shewn to those who frequent these two places.

་་

with Clenord three times a week at least. But now M. de Lussan does not go near his friends; he lets them, when they call on him, wait in the anti-chamber, and obliges them to come three times before he can see them: it is not because his title; he goes to court, he dines at the Prince's second table, it is thought that he has interest, and he gives himself airs.

Think on poor F; certainly he distinguished himself during the revolution; but I assure you, for this month past he has quite changed his opinious. You know he is not worth a penny, and is ready to sacrifice every thing to his new masters; his loyalty entitles

he is richer than before, but he has recovered him to the place of prefect, and he is well able to

Commarieux et Moulins.-The truest history of the Revolution.

Perhaps there is some commission to be made: in that case, in the place of Clenord, I will send to M. de Commarieux the Index of the Moniteur. It is the best history that was ever published on the Revolution, and it proves, as my friend A says, " That no one can write a history who composes it."

A FREE SPEAKER,

LETTER FROM A FRENCH LADY TO
HER COUSIN,

SOLICITING PLACES UNDER GOVERNMENT.

How rejoiced I am, my dear friend, at the chain of events which have at length seated our illustrious monarch on the throne of his ancestors! You can form no idea of the respect I receive on this account, which is augmented by your sojournment at Paris. The préfeet is afraid of me; and his wife, who never used to speak to me, has invited me twice to dinner.

But there is no time to be lost, and my hopes rest all in you. Will you believe that my husband has not taken a single step to get himself reinstated in his former place? He pretends that the situation is now dispensed with, and that his charge was never paid but in assignats. He is one of the most apathetic men in all France.

My brother-in-law is again invested with the cross of St. Louis; he wanted only nine years to obtain that order, when the revolution first broke out; it would not certainly have been right to refuse the honour due to his services during the twenty years of sorrow and misfortune, which he passed in the country: he reckons on your friendship to get his brevet as speedily as possible.

fill it, Do you remember the pretty sonnet he made on me?

M. de B, the son of the former intendant of the province, means to pay you a visit; he is a friend of our family; and if he could be reestablished in the intendancies, he would be very well contented with the place of Receiver-General it is the least they can do for a man devoted to his Prince, and who was imprisoned six months during the reign of terror.

I ought not to forget to recommend B to you. He is reproached with having served both parties, because he has been employed by every different government which have succeeded each other in France for twenty years: but he is a clever fellow, you may believe me; he was the first here who mounted the white cockade. Besides, he only wishes to keep his place of postmaster-general; a-propos, be so good as to direct to me under cover to him.

I send you herewith the papers of my fatherhim forty-five thousand francs; I hope you will in-law: the states of Languedoc are indebted to not let him wait for the re-imbursement of them; and he begs you will not scruple to make use of but that is not likely to be the case in your situathese funds if you are in want of ready money: tion.

all my family; hoping soon to have the pleasure Adieu, my dear cousin, I embrace you, as does of seeing you in Paris.

REPLY TO THE FOREGOING LETTER.

Paris, 15th May, 1814.

You cannot imagine, my dear cousin, the interest 1 felt on reading your letter, which you did me the honour of writing; nor the zeal which I have employed in setting forth the value of such just and legitimate pretensions as I found in those persons whom you specified. You canI send with this letter a memorial in favour of not be more surprised than I was at the objections S. F, my eldest son; he has a right to the which were made to them, but which you will inheritance of his uncle, and it will be easy for judge insurmountable, when you know, as well you to obtain it for him. I wish his brother, the as I do, what sort of people we have to deal with. Chevalier, to enter into the navy, but in a rank When I spoke of your eldest son, whom I alworthy of his title and the ancient services of ways intended to serve, and whom I recommendhis family. As to my grandson, G, he is ofed for a place, as the commander of a brigade, in an age to be one of the pages, and I hope you will speak a word to get him so situated.

We shall set off for Paris the beginning of next month; and 1 shall take my daughter with me: I wish to place her at court; this is a favour, which if you ask, I am sure will not be refused, if you unite perseverance with willing

ness.

a regiment of which his father had served, they made this most weighty objection, that peace being signed, before they could think of placing M. de S. F in such a situation, they must provide for twenty-five thousand officers, some of whom, would you believe it, have been in every campaign, others have been wounded severely, and even make the battles they have been

engaged in a title to reward. Others more close-
ly united to the Royal Family, bave returned
with them to France, without any other fortune
than the friendship and promises of the King.
I asked, with some degree of acrimony, what
then was to be done for your son, and a number
of other brave royalists, who had wept in secret
over the misfortunes of the kingdom, and whose
prayers were daily offered up in private for the
restoration of the Bourbous to the throne of their ||
ancestors? They only replied, that they were
rejoiced to see those prayers accepted in the ter-
mination of their misfortunes.

Your husband is a very singular man, and I well conceive, my dear cousin, what you must have suffered from his incredible apathy. At the age of only sixty-five or six, reduced to a fortune of forty thousand livres per annum, he secludes himself in his chateau, and thinks it time to renounce the career of ambition; as if a fatherceived warmly by them all. He is a man of wonowed nothing to his children! as if a gentleman ought not to die standing.